As Berley flashed the light for an instant the boy read, above the door:
He wondered what that stood for. There was no time now for talk. Berley’s hard little knuckles had made contact with the door.
The next instant they stood blinking in the light that came from the cabin. Before them, holding his dog by the collar, was a tall, well-built man whose graying hair said he might be forty. His face, though seamed and tanned from constant exposure, bore the touch of eternal youth, a heritage of those who spend their lives in wild and silent places.
For a space of seconds he stared at them. Then his face lighted with a smile as he exclaimed:
“Why! It’s the little half-portion, Berley Todd! Put her there!” He extended a brawny brown hand.
Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, he drew back and stared.
“But—but what are you doing here at this time?”
“Came by plane,” Berley explained with a laugh. “Didn’t you hear us arrive?”
“N-no.” The look on the guide’s face was strange to see.
“You wouldn’t of course. We came in the night.
“And this—” She pushed her companion forward. “This is the Red Rover. You’ve heard of him, haven’t you? The famous football star, the Red Rover?”
“Y-e-s?” The guide continued to stare. It was plain that he believed little of that which he had just heard. And who could blame him? What chance was there that the most famous football star of the season should go off into a wilderness in an airplane a few days before the big game of the year?
“It’s cold. We—we’d like to come in,” the girl pleaded.
The scout stared for ten seconds, then exclaimed:
“Beg pardon! Been a long time since any one was here. Didn’t expect to see a soul until spring. Come in. Got a big kettle of Mulligan stew on the stove. Big feed, what?”
“Can’t be too big for us!” said Berley, closing the door and, to the scout’s bewilderment, turning the key in the lock, as she said quite calmly: “I’d like to pull the shades if you don’t mind.”
“Why, yes. Just pull ’em right down.” The scout stared afresh.
“You see,” explained “the little half-portion,” dropping into a chair, “Red, here, and I ran away. We—we don’t want any one to know we are here. Not a soul—except, of course, you.”
“Thanks for the compliment, Miss. But I assure you there’ll not be a soul here until spring. Do you plan to stay that long?”